Careful What You Write About, ‘Cause You Just Might Get It'. Bombs And Freediving

Came out next to the surfers after playing in the crevices that form just bellow the massive waves.

Yesterday morning, I started sharing about my time in Mentawai and ended up going down the rabbit hole of what a wipeout looks and feels like. I’ve become so connected and in tune with The Universe that I manifest what I think, talk, post, and write about. I say this with unwavering certainty.

You can probably guess where I’m going with this: right after I wrote this, we left for dawn patrol surf and as we paddled out to the first break, I had two minor wipeouts within 20 minutes that were so exhausting they turned me off to surfing. I rerouted and went to the boat to grab my freediving gear. After about 40 minutes out there, two big boats showed up full of surfers who saturated the break, which made us leave immediately. I was happy to; I didn’t like that spot anyway.

The chanels directly under the wave like veins where the water pushes thru and creates high speeds. I like playing in them. As the set passes above, I surf bellow.

The boat at the resort is giving us problems. The engine shuts off every five minutes or so, making it an odyssey to get to where we’re going each time. After several restarts, we made it to my surf favorite spot. Icelands is a gentle giant, a left that peels  clean when it breaks and is deep enough to be safe if I fall. It comes in like a tsunami, and a few paddles in the right spot get you on a fast wedge that shapes up beautifully. The drop is steep and fast, and I love feeling my left hand touch the water and leave a trail as I fly down it with complete determination. The speed is intoxicating. True stoke. But something was off yesterday because as soon as I paddled out, I had two huge wipeouts. One was honestly the worst of my life. I panicked a little bit when I was stuck under those giants. Had to take a break.

Enough about that. I’m going to 180 this and write about surfing bombs. Maybe if I write about it, I’ll get a bunch in a few hours when I paddle out again at Icelands. Help me manifest this.

A bomb is a monster wave. It’s the kind of wave that comes every few sets and towers above all the others. It’s the kind you wait patiently for, sitting way outside ahead of everyone. Sometimes you wait 30 or 40 minutes for this giant, but when it comes, you have to be ready and committed. No fear, no hesitation—you gotta charge. I love these waves. I live for them! It’s so scary and exhilarating. I know this might sound a little coo-coo to non-surfers, but this is the highest high ever. It’s better than sex.

So yesterday, after eating it twice on that second break, I went back to the boat and put on my freediving gear again. I grabbed my GoPro and decided to play in the depths. The reef was glorious. At one point, I even teared up in my mask. It’s so rare these days to see healthy, untouched, unharmed reef.

Feeling like a mermaid going inside the caves.

Where there are breaks, especially strong powerful ones, there are usually veins that run up and down the ocean’s bed, perpendicular to the beach. They form, I imagine, from millennia of water hitting the reef like that. The water needs an avenue to release and eventually starts carving deep rails, like fingers. I love getting in them, just below the massive break, and using that power to torpedo myself through them. Freediving is one of the sports I dominate. I’m more comfortable underwater than on land, and I can hold my breath for a long time and relax down there, taking in the magic. So I time it with the wave, submerge myself into one of these crevices, and wait for it to pass over me. As it does, it pushes me through, and I go flying! It’s so fun. Then, once it passes, there’s a pullback, but I’m ready for it and use one of my fingers to grab onto a rock so that it doesn’t suck me back. Then, I wait a bit and swoosh, here comes the push from the next wave of the set. I can go 40 - 60 meters like that, waiting down there for a couple of minutes for a few waves to do this.

Playing in the vains directly under the massive wave

I played in every single one of the crevices at the bottom of that surf break. As I started making my way back to the boat, at about five meters depth, I came across the dreamiest reef formations. Full of tunnels and underwater bridges, crevices, and pathways. I felt like a mermaid down there. So many fish, super healthy coral of so many varieties. Transparent, turquoise water that glittered with the sun like diamonds. I saw some big fish too, giant green parrotfish with big humps on their heads and powerful birdlike beaks, and red snappers about the size of a grown man’s torso. When a cloud would cover the sun and it got dark, it felt creepy, like entering a magical portal. Then, the sun would shine again, revealing the most beautiful light refracting off the water, creating beams that pierced it all the way to the bottom, making the coral and fish shine bright and sparkle.

So much beauty overwhelmed me, and I cried happy tears. I was full of love and appreciation and couldn’t contain it, so it came out of me in tears. I call it leaking love. My body is so full of love that it leaks out.

Freediving paradise

Tito, our surf guide, and Steve, a guest staying at the resort, were ready to call it a day, but I had a second wind and wanted to give it another go, so I stayed behind. There was a third surfer in the water that morning whom I’d met a couple of days prior, so I asked if he could give me a ride back to Toska in his dinghy when we were done.

I paddled out with new strength and focus. I hadn’t waited five minutes when a bomb came straight at me. I found myself in the perfect spot to catch it. I became laser-focused and committed. You can’t flinch in these moments. I paddled hard towards it to set up perfectly, lining up,  and at the last minute, flipped the board towards shore in a swift 180 and gave two strong paddles while exhaling all my air. That did it—the wave caught me, and I went. The drop was wild. When I popped up, I was so high up it felt like a triple overhead wave at least. I put my right foot heavy on the front of my board to push the weight down and carved hard. The drop lasted so long. I stayed high on the wave, racing to make it ahead of the mountain of white water crashing behind me, chasing me, fast. Then, when it was safe and I was far enough ahead, I made my first turn into the white water, twisting my body and counteracting the weight with my arms, before twisting again to ride up the face and down again. Sitting low, with my knees bent and my back straight, in the zone. It was worth everything—that wave. Wow, the rush was intoxicating.

I paddled back out with a giant smile on my face, as Paul, my ride back and only other surfer on the break, cheered me. He’d seen me catch the wave. He’d been paddling back from his own when I caught it. It was magic. The next set came with another bomb, and I was power paddling to make it to it. It looked a bit late, but screw it, I flipped around and took it and made it. It was as good as the last. A few more bombs came through, and we caught them all. Just Paul and I, dominating giants.

I felt like a gladiator going into battle and returning victorious. By the time we left, there were a few more people surfing with us.

All good vibes and happy faces.

Paul dropped me near Toska resort an hour later, and I walked the rest of the way down the beach in the most beautiful place in the world. I was elated and exhausted. It was the perfect morning.

Coming out of a bomb elated.